


hot girl bummer

by bluetint



Category: GOT7
Genre: F/M, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, i love bambam okay, oomf cameos in this twice, they’re just rich, what do rich people even do when they’re not suppressing the working class, with sprinkles of sexual acts in between, young and rich squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetint/pseuds/bluetint
Summary: Bambam is just vibin' until he's not.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31





	hot girl bummer

**Author's Note:**

> okay so there's no solid explanation for this fic but there was [this edit](https://twitter.com/serenitykang/status/1248499575037419523) and y'all know what happens when we leave my brain and dick unattended.

The sun is up, the sky is blue, the breeze is cool. He is on a yacht and the DJ is playing Tiesto. 

A cork bottle popping loose, champagne flying everywhere, drenching ecstatic onlookers. 

“You having fun yet?” Jackson asks them, grinning at the gaggle of men and women who were eyeing him from the other end of the yacht.

Mark shrugged, looking utterly unaffected by the devastation he was causing by just being in his Vilebrequin shorts. If public indecency wasn’t a crime, Mark would walk around naked.

Bambam goes to answer Jackson when a woman, clad in a skimpy two piece that probably cost more than one year of a college student’s tuition, approaches him, sliding in between his legs, kissing him without so much as a hello. 

Naked skin doused in Dom Perignon. Yum.

“I am now.”

\--

“Tell me one more time why I can’t go in the pool.”

“Because you’re a) drunk b) high and I don’t want you cracking your head in there and dying in my backyard.”

“Wow, mean.”

“Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but you’re kind of in the middle of something.”

Bambam squints. He can barely make out Youngjae’s and Mark’s naked bodies in the dim lighting of the bedroom. “What?”

Mark makes a strangled noise. Bambam dimly wonders what Youngjae’s doing to him and promptly decides he's better off knowing.

Youngjae gives him a measured look before reaching out to thread a hand in Bambam’s gelled hair and pulls, making him look down so Bambam can see the girl (one that he does not recognize) deepthroating him.

“Oh.”

\--

“I’m leaving,” Jinyoung announces.

“Already?”

“Bambam, it’s 11 p.m. I have work.”

“But it’s my birthday!”

“And tomorrow’s a weekday.” 

Bambam pouts. “But we didn’t even cut the cake yet.”

Jinyoung looks at the adult cake. Or the remains of it anyway. After Jackson had wheeled it in, Nayeon had popped out of it and they’d all sang happy birthday. Then they’d stripped him down to his shorts and the guys had smeared cake on him while the girls had kissed him all over. 

He spots a lipstick mark covered in cream cheese frosting on his hand. To Jinyoung’s disgust, he licks it.

“Wow.”

Bambam offers some to Jinyoung. 

“Yeah, I’m leaving.”

“Come on, Jinyoungie. For me, please?”

Jinyoung shakes his head. The nation’s prince put on a pretty good cold front in front of the public, but he was a sucker for aegyo. Bambam’s to be specific. Something about older men and groveling that hit him just right and Bambam’s not above a lil’ begging every now and then.

“If I give you a kiss, will that please his highness into letting me go?”

Bambam pretends to consider, tracing the bits of cake smeared on his chest in thought. “Only if you give me a kiss.”

Jinyoung sighs. “Fine.”

“With lipstick.”

An eyebrow goes up. Tongue in cheek. Teasing uptight Jinyoung was his favorite thing in the world.

But it seemed like the cake wasn’t the only surprise store for him that night. 

Jinyoung stands up, straightens out the non-existent wrinkles in his jacket, adjusts the cuff links, grabs a passing Nayeon who’s headed over to the home karaoke system, kisses the red paint off her mouth and then descends on Bambam.

He was expecting a peck or a mocking forehead smooch, not a mouth fucking so when Jinyoung’s lips brush against his, his mouth drops open in shock. Jinyoung's tongue slips in between his lips and wreaks a little havoc on the inside of his mouth. 

When they break apart, Nayeon’s recorded the whole thing, her smeared mouth stretched wide in glee and Bambam’s maybe got a teensy weensy tent in his pants.

“Happy birthday,” says Jinyoung and then smashes a whole slice of cake on his face.

\--

When Bambam’s not reinventing the Regina George routine in public, he’s usually at home with his cats, ordering takeout, listening to booty call music and recording himself doing makeup to pass the time. You know, regular ol’ rich people shit.

The bell dings and Bambam buzzes the delivery boy in.

The first time Yugyeom showed up to his house with pizza, Bambam had propositioned him before he’d even gotten the door all the way open.

“That’ll be $66.95 and no, sir,” Yugyeom had answered with the air of someone who’d been propositioned by someone in a silk robe and cat ears, high off their ass, with baking powder on their face countless times before.

“Keep the change,” Bambam had told him, slapping a hundred dollar bill in his hand.

The delivery boy had given him one long look, head to toe, and said, “I’d go with Cosmo and Amber if I were you.”

Bambam had stared at the door long after it had closed before realizing the guy had been referring to the Desert Dusk in his hand.

After that, he’d become Bambam’s personal pizza errand boy. He was rich, he could do what he wanted. If he wanted the same person to hand deliver the pizza with sourdough crust from the questionable fast food place, he would get it.

(it totally had nothing to do with the fact that he made the other delivery boys cry) 

\--

“Wild night, huh?” Yugyeom asked, taking in the lingerie flung about, the empty wine bottles and the naked couple in his bed. 

“You could say that,” muttered Bambam, struggling to get his wallet open. Why were there so many zips? Whose idea was it to put so many zippers on a wallet? Who even needed that!

Yugyeom cleared his throat. “May I?” Expertly, he opened it ( _one-handed_!) and handed it back to Bambam. For a guy in a room with three naked people, he looked completely at home.

“How much?”

Yugyeom held up the three boxes and two bottles. “89.95$.”

“Only?”

“Yep.”

“What about the garlic knots?”

“On the house. You are our best customer.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Isn’t it, guys?” One would think he was referring to the man and woman in his bed, but no, he was talking to the cats.

“Oh and sir?”

Bambam looked up with a mouthful of garlic bread. “Mmpf?”

“Wash that chocolate sauce off your dick before you go to bed.”

\--

Jackson’s birthday parties were the talk of the town. 

The display of sheer opulence and wealth would wow anyone, make them take it in with open-mouthed and wide-eyed awe, even those who’ve seen it all, various variations of it, over and over, for the past few years.

Bambam was wowed, but that was two hours ago.

Now he's just bored.

The party’s barely begun but Bambam’s already bored.

“Looks like someone’s not having a good time.”

Bambam looks up from the half-filled flute he’d been inspecting, marveling at the artistry it must’ve taken to etch floral design into the glass. Lisa, limber and statuesque, in a black silk halter top dress that left nothing to imagination, slides into the sofa next to him, a bottle of champagne in one hand and her girlfriend’s hand in the other.

Bambam shrugged, inclining his head at Jisoo, who just smiles at him in favor of going back to giving starry-eyed looks to Lisa. 

“You’re not high,” Lisa notes, pulling the tray of empty glasses towards her and pouring one out for Jisoo. 

“You remember where we are, right?” He loved Jackson, he did, but the man's strict no drug policy made it hard to turn up. 

“Oh honey, that’s why you have me. Babe?” The second endearment is directed at Jisoo, who pulls something out of her purse and throws it at him.

To an onlooker, it would look like the girl had thrown lipstick at him, but he knows it’s an empty tube with a joint in it. Bless friends who had your back, he thought. However, he respected Jackson too much to smoke on premises which meant he had to leave. Only to remember he couldn’t. “Damn, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m Mark’s babysitter tonight.”

“Where’s Jinyoung? I thought he came with you.”

“He did, but now he’s "coming" with someone else.”

Lisa quirked one finely threaded brow at him. Bambam jerked his thumb over his shoulder, where Mark was on the floor propped up against one of the sofas with Jinyoung on top of him, both in various states of undress and passion, offering the context for his comment.

Jisoo, embarrassed at having borne witness to such a sight, buried her face in Lisa’s shoulder. Lisa, having no such shame, looked on. “Damn. I’d say the baby is being… sat quite thoroughly.”

Bambam snorted, draining the rest of his glass. “Wanna play Nanny McPhee for the night?”

Jinyoung was such a picture perfect tightwad in public that no one would ever think to find him like this: face flushed, hair a mess, willingly naked in the back of the club, skewered on some guy’s dick. It was _a sight to behold._

Lisa’s eyes still hadn’t moved. Even Jisoo was peeking over her shoulder, eyes wide. Bambam smirked.

“Top me off before I bounce?”

Lisa pours him another without taking her eyes off them. “Always.”

\---

Rich people don’t do bored like you and me.

They don’t call up a friend, order something extravagant online that they’ll most definitely regret later or watch a Primetime movie with soft erotica. too much drama and no plot.

They do dumb shit like parking in the middle of a road after lighting up and snack on some greasy curly fries and Slush.

They go looking for trouble, whether they realize it or not.

Bambam’s been sitting in his red Chevrolet Corvette for about twenty minutes now, pleasantly high, watching life go by.

“Hey asshole.”

Ah, here it is, the attention he had ordered.

The attention comes from a delivery person on a bike, clad in a faded red shirt with a rooster on it and ugly brown shorts. The man/woman/person tipped their head, the yellow cat-eared helmet. It reminded him of Celty from Durarara. If Celty was a delivery person. “You’re parked in the middle of the goddamn road, you know that?”

Bambam, lips smacking exaggeratedly, sucking the oil off his fingers, says, “No.”

“Well, now you do. So, if you would, please move this metaphor for your dick out of the way so I can deliver my last order and be on my way, that would be great.”

Bambam tipped his head back, feeling the balmy night air on his face. “Make me.”

Celty stilled. “Excuse me?”

“I said.” And here, Bambam pauses to take an obnoxiously loud sip of his jumbo-sized Slush. “Make. Me.”

He’d expected the person to back off. Take the long way around. Curse at him maybe. What he didn’t expect was for the person to park the bike, take their helmet off, pick up the delivery bag and climb on top of his car.

“What the fuck -” he swore, watching as they slid across the hood and into the building. His mouth is still open by the time they return, sans delivery.

“You’re still here? Jesus.”

Hands in pockets, they jump effortlessly on the hood, the streetlight shining down and this time Bambam’s mouth fell open wider.

Pink hair. Cat eyes. Boobs. Thick thighs.

“Look man, I love lighting up as much as the next guy, for fucks sake, don’t be an asshole about it. Also, there’s ketchup in your hair.”

Bambam, resident smooth and eloquent motherfucker, looks her in the eye and says, quite seriously, “Boobs.”

What intrigued Bambam was not the way she bared her teeth at him and stomped across the sleek hood of his beloved Corvette in her biker boots, tracking mud all over it, but his own reaction to her. He was feeling something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Glee.

Pure, unadulterated glee.

\---

Bambam is seeing Yugyeom in a new light.

For example, he’d never noticed how slender his hands were or how tight were the jeans he seemed to favor.

Or how he was wearing a red cap with the same garish rooster as the woman who’d stood on his hood 24 hours earlier.

All this clarity... he had connected the dots. 

The voice in his head disagreed. You didn't connect shit.

He'd connected them!!!

Man, he should smoke more often.

As usual, Bambam overpays. As usual, Yugyeom goes to return it.

“Keep the change.”

“Sir. That is 200$ for a pizza.”

“Exceptionally well-made pizza. Where’s the place you work at anyway?”

Yugyeom pockets only one of the hundred dollar bills, leaving the other one on the table. One of the cats, King, batted at it. “Downtown. Had a nice night?”

He thinks of bared teeth and cat eyes. “Something like that. You the only one there?”

“Nah we have a couple of guys. Some girls too.”

“They deliver too?”

“Yeah. Why? Getting tired of me because I keep turning you down?”

“More like getting tired of your ugly mug.”

“Too bad, you’re stuck with it. Well, I’ll be going then.”

“Yeah. Night.”

“Goodnight, hyung.”

\--

The thing was, after he'd come back home, he’d extensively googled the place where Yugyeom worked. He just needed to know which outlet. The fast-food joint had eighteen branches in the city, which was a lot, considering that their best seller was a pizza with too much oil, under-cooked cheese and sourdough crust.

Shit was bomb, though.

At first, he’d thought he’d look at all eighteen branches, scope them out, but then realized that was a stupid idea. 

Like, who had that much time?

So he’d just asked Yugyeom and prayed Celty worked at the same joint as him. 

There was only one joint in the area Yugyeom had told him. Eugh, the brand chicken was even uglier up close. 

Parking his bike across from it (he’d decided to lowkey it, stalking 101), he straddled it, looking at his watch. 1.15 p.m.

His phone buzzed. 

It was Mark.

__

mtuan: Lunch?

doubleb: Cant. busy.

mtuan: With what? Ur rich

doubleb: *young and rich

doubleb: But srsly cant. raincheck?

mtuan: K.

Pocketing his phone, he sat down to do the one thing he hated the most.

Waiting.

\---

Two days, several rainchecks, seventeen hotdogs and one cup of funky tasting Russian salad later, he gets lucky. Bambam’s one of those people, those fuckers upon whom Lady Luck looks upon favorably, uncaring of what he chose to do with it. It’s like she’d turned the Luck tap on and forgotten to turn it off.

The amount of people coming in and out of the place were insane. He had no idea there were other people, who like him, ordered crappy pizza by the dozen like it was going out of style. That was supposed to be his brand!

He’d spotted Yugyeom going in and out a couple of times, a few other workers, but not Celty. 

He’d been about to give up, bored of stabbing at the boiled potatoes in the salad with the plastic fork, like maybe go home and hack into Yugyeom’s Facebook or something, when _she_ showed up on her steed, a banged up Harley Davidson that had seen better days.

In daylight, she was even more startling to witness.

Pink hair. Facial piercings (were those dermals?!), shabby clothes (who wore a crop top with booty shorts to work?!) that highlighted her _ass_ ets and the same murderous look on her face. 

Bootleg Princess Bubblegum, he thought, heart soaring, I’ve found you.

Yugyeom comes out then, stretching his arms and calling out to Bubblegum, who breaks into a brilliant smile and -

Oh no.

Bambam’s triumphant smile diminishes as he observes, in slow motion, as Bubblegum jumps off her bike and onto Yugyeom, who catches her with practiced ease - one arm around her back and the other hand cupping her ass - and kisses her in broad daylight, in front of Bambam’s salad.

Seemed like Lady Luck suddenly remembered she left the water on.

\--

Jackson would’ve told him to move on.

Lisa would’ve offered him some weed and let him cry it out.

Youngjae would’ve offered to help him fuck it out.

Mark would’ve told him to fuck both of them. Nayeon would’ve echoed it.

Jinyoung would’ve told him to fuck off.

But the voice inside Bambam’s head? The one that’s guided his actions throughout the years and given him the balls to go after what he wants (to which all his bad decisions can be credited) says:

“Game on.”

**Author's Note:**

> bootleg princess bubblegum is jaebeom/jaehee for those of you who haven't figured it out.
> 
> i don't know if i'll ever expand on this but for now just vibe with this!


End file.
